26 Letters
by accio-ambition
Summary: A collection of Captain Swan one-shots. Posts once a day until the premiere on 28 September. Ratings vary on letter, but warning will be given if it's M.
1. A for Accent

"Finished," he mumbled to himself. "She'll be over the moon."

After what Emma had been experiencing the last few days, Killian wanted to treat her to some alone time.

Well, alone time in his company.

He'd planned out an entire evening of relaxation: dinner for two in her apartment (Henry home with Regina for the time being), popped corn and a moving picture, and the chance to be together with no interruptions. With those criteria, the night was full of possibilities.

Since returning from the past, Swan had been preoccupied with the abrupt change in weather or the sudden appearance of the Winter Queen or her parents and barely-born brother. She was happy, Killian could tell, but so much joy after nearly three decades of solitude was tiring. It would be beneficial (for the both of them) for some quality time with only each other.

On cue, a hunched-over Emma trudged through the front door. Killian, quite like an excited puppy, approached and greeted her.

"Good evening, Swan," he practically purred.

"Hey Killian," she replied wearily, quietly. "It's been a rough day, so I think I'm just going to go to bed."

_No_, he thought, his hand reacting before his mind could stop it. He clutched at her forearm. "Swan, you must eat something first," he said, grabbing on to the first reason he could fathom.

"No, really, I'm fine," she insisted, brushing his body from in front of her and heading to her curtained quarters. "I just need to get some sleep."

_Stop her_, his conscience begged him. _She'll thank you later_.

"Emma," he said quietly, infusing as much of his native lilt into her name. She stopped, one hand hanging off the curtain. Killian came up next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and offering his hook as her guide. "I know how exhausted you are, but a little nourishment never hurt a soul."

Unconscious to her, Emma leaned into Killian's touched at his words. She allowed herself to be led, Killian the pied piper to her town child, to the table set with a candlelit meal.

Almost lazily, she faced him as he pulled out her chair. "Did you cook?" she asked.

"It isn't much, just a simple fish course I made in my time at sea," he confided. After he'd taken his seat across from her and Emma let out her first satisfied moan, he inquired, "What has made you so tired today?"

"Nothing much," she answered, hand covering her food-filled mouth. She swallowed and continued. "David brought Neal to the station so Mom could get some sleep, but the kid screamed nearly the entire time and neither of us knew what was wrong."

Killian smiled into his glass of wine. Her casual mixture of her father's given name and her mother's title was endearing. Proof that she was finally accepting her place in her family.

"Did the little prince ever calm down?"

Emma nodded, gulping down some wine of her own. "But only after we passed him to every patron at Granny's."

They chuckled and finished their meal in amicable silence, her foot occasionally brushing against his bare one. When the dishes were dried and the candles extinguished, Killian took Emma's hand and guided her to the couch.

"What now?" she asked, settling into the couch cushion.

Turning on the television, Killian supplied, "I thought we could watch one of those moonbeams you adore so."

He heard her utter "Moonbeams?" under her breath before the components clicked and comprehension dawned. "You mean a movie?"

Killian nodded and started fiddling with the electronics he'd figured out earlier that day but were managing to boggle him now. He would've continued doing so if a gentle "Killian" from the couch hadn't caught his attention.

The pirate turned around to see Swan with the specific buttoned brick he had been looking for, depressing one of the colorful buttons. The screen behind him stopped buzzing, silence taking its place. She patted the spot next to her on the couch.

"I love the thought and effort you put into tonight," she complimented as he joined her, "but I really am too tired to function correctly. I'm sorry."

"You needn't apologize, love," he comforted her. His arm slyly snuck over her shoulders and brought her into his chest. Her hand came up to rest on it, fingers barely brushing the hair peeking from his shirt. "This evening was simply an attempt to give you a reprieve from the insanity this town provides its savior."

Emma let out a laugh. "That's thoughtful." After another moment, she sunk into his chest, all the tension leaving her body. "Will you do one more thing for me?"

"Anything."

"Can you tell me a story?" she asked, childlike and innocent.

"Of course," he answered. "What sort of tale would you fancy?"

Snuggling further into his warmth, she sighed happily. "You could read the phone book for all I care. Just keep talking in that voice of yours."

_Ah ha_, he thought. _She does enjoy my voice_.

"Don't let it go to that stupidly handsome head of yours."

"Ah, yes," Killian hummed into her hair. "My little delusional Swan."

"Shut up, it doesn't count, I'm half asleep."

Killian's chest rose and fell with laughter. "I'll relent, love. How about I regale you with the time I fought off an entire armada of-"

She slapped his chest, causing another rumbling to wrack his body.

"Message received," he murmured, tangling his fingers in her blonde tresses and laying his hook on her thigh. "Right after we returned from Neverland, the Jolly Roger was attacked by a messenger ship…"

He got so caught up in his memories, he failed to notice the deep and even breaths the woman he loved now took. His voice acted like a lullaby meant for her and her alone. He smiled to himself and lifted her into his arms, minding his hook. Emma's head fit perfectly into the hollow of his neck, snug in its home as Killian carried her to her bed.

Setting her down and brushing some hair from her brow, he bent forward and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, my Swan," he whispered.

Even in her dreams, his voice made her smile.

**a/n: welcome to 26 Letters! over the next 26 days, ill be posting a Captain Swan one-shot a day, each day being the next letter of the alphabet. it'll end on the 27, and then the next day is the S4 premiere. hope you all like it. as always, feel free to leave a word on what youre thinking. see you tomorrow :)**


	2. B for Brothers

"He always knew what to say, what the right sentiment and order of words were," Killian explained, nervously fiddling with his rings. "Regardless of the situation, Liam managed to make me feel cherished or mature or whatever he believed to be the thing I needed most."

Warm fingers wrapped around his, a comforting gesture he still wasn't quite used to. He gave a small, sad smile and squeezed them, hoping the words he couldn't find were conveyed through the action.

"Liam would've adored you," he assumed softly. He faced the woman on his right, immediately finding her emerald eyes. "He would've been cold at first, 'no woman is good enough for my little brother' and the like. But he'd act as if you were his flesh and blood, his younger sister, once you acquainted yourselves." Looking away, he tried to shield her from his emotions. "I miss him."

Leaning her temple to his shoulder, Emma allowed him to sit in silence, stare out at the sea, and reminisce about his brother. When she thought it bad for him to wallow any more, she returned his earlier squeeze, pulling from the darkest depths of his mind.

"You'd be crazy not to miss your brother," she said, gently caressing his forearm. "He sounds like a wonderful man and I know that every day you make him proud."

Another watery smile from Killian nearly broke her heart. He kissed her forehead slowly, trying in vain to keep his tears hidden.

"Thank you, love," he hoarsely muttered. Emma merely nodded in response.

They spent the remainder of the afternoon silently in their own minds, grieving separately, but not alone.

0000

They could only fit so many people into one of Granny's booths.

"I love you, kid, really," Emma said to her gangly son, "but I'd rather not be squished between a teenage garbage can and Captain Hook"

Henry glared at her, unamused by her quip. The men flanking her shared a conspiratorial glance and, just to spite her, rammed their shoulders into hers. Emma's mouth issued an "Oof" and a few muttered curses amongst the pair's laughs.

David and Snow watched the scene unfold from the safety of their booth bench, shaking their heads in tandem. Little Neal gurgles nonsensical happy noises in his mother's lap, the picture-perfect 10-month-old he was.

The squabble ended when Henry eased up enough to let Emma shove him on the floor. Killian's stifled laughter didn't go unnoticed.

"I see how it is," Henry theorized, pushing himself up and brushing off his pants. "You'll pay for this, pirate," he threatened before walking over to the counter.

"What about by the water?" Mary Margaret asked, continuing a previous conversation.

Emma glanced at Killian, a silent conversation ensuing, before responding, "We thought about that. It'd be nice for sure, but-"

The shrill ringing of both Emma's and David's phones interrupted her thought.

"Hello?" David answered, Emma watching intently. It had to be sheriff's business if both their phones rang. He nodded at whatever the caller was saying and motioned at his wife to scoot out of the booth. She complied, Emma and Killian following suit. "No, you were right to call. I'll be right over." David hung up and turned to speak with his expectant partners. "Belle thinks the library's been robbed." When his daughter moved toward the diner's door, he stopped her with a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "It's no big deal," he insisted. "You two need to stay here and sort things out with your mother." At Emma's annoyed expression, he said, "If I need back up, I'll call."

With a huff, she relented, shooing Killian back into the booth. David kissed Snow, then a fidgety Neal's forehead, and left.

"Actually," her mother hesitated just as Emma made to sit down, "would you mind holding the baby while I use the restroom?"

She'd barely consented before he was thrusted in her grasp and her mother was gone. "Guess it's just me and you, baby bro," Emma said, bouncing Neal on her hip.

"I'm hurt, Swan," Killian mockingly gasped.

Emma rolled her eyes as she crouched to let the toddler stand with her support. "You don't count."

"Now, now, don't raise the babe to loathe me like your father," he chided. Then he too slid from his seat to crouch and speak to the boy. "You're going to love me just like your big sister does, little prince," Killian cooed. "And you shan't punch me like your father because we both have to protect our Swan, aye?"

Both Charming children laughed, Emma a slight giggle and Neal's a delighted shriek. The little boy uncoordinatedly clapped his hands and took a few shaky steps toward the pirate, his sister frog-hopping behind him to keep her steady hands around his waist.

"But if the silly pirate gets too arrogant, you can punch him like Daddy did," Emma stage-whispered to her brother. Neal's head swiveled toward her before shrieking and clapping again, a few more bouncy steps taken. She looked at Killian's unamused face and gave him a wink.

0000

"C'mon, Hook, I can't lift this by myself," David yelled up the stairs.

"Bloody hell, Dave," he shouted back. "I'm one man with one hand!"

"That hasn't slowed you down before!"

David saw the pirate's eyes from over the armrest. "Seeing as your daughter will maim me if I, in anyway, damage this furniture, I fancy taking my time in this instance."

The two men grunted and groaned down the rest of the stairs. The couch in the loft needed to be trashed and replaced after an incident that had both Emma and Killian blushing from toes to ears. Neither Charming nor Snow inquired how or why, but everyone agreed the removal was the best course of action.

Once the couch was shoved sufficiently into the bed of David's truck, they hopped into the cab. Starting the ignition, David pushed Killian's shoulder, knocking the other one into the window.

"What the hell?" Killian exclaimed.

"You're one-handed, not one-armed," David cried. "Centuries at sea had to give you more muscle than that!"

Hook huffed. "I bloody told you, I didn't want to ruin anything."

"Then why'd you wear the hook?" David argued. "You knew we were moving furniture."

Through gritted teeth, he responded, "I had more pressing matters to attend to."

Annoyance evident on his face, the prince roared, "Like what?"

"Like preparing to ask for your permission," Killian muttered, "for your daughter's hand."

Flabbergasted, David swerved off his side of the road a bit before catching himself. "Excuse me?" he asked, looking at the other man.

"I don't know if that's the custom in this realm," Killian said meekly. "But back in our realm." He played with the rings he wore, fewer now than when he'd first decided to stay in Storybrooke. A deep inhale and he looked directly at the prince. "I'm going to ask Emma to marry me. And if she says yes, I'm going to marry her regardless of your wishes."

Thankfully, after such a declaration, David pulled into a parking space at the secondhand store, giving him a few precious seconds to collect himself. He vaguely heard the passenger door open and shut and the pirate shuffling around in the truck bed.

His thoughts gathered, David exited the cab and rounded the back. "Alright, mate," he sternly barked. "You and I both know Emma's going to accept your proposal." Killian straightened up as if hearing a second opinion on the matter solidified his confidence. "You have my blessing. If," he added, watching the stance of the pirate sag slightly, "you use both your stupid arms with this moving."

Killian smirked. "Shouldn't be a problem, Dad."

0000

Emma stirred slowly, every bone in her body cracked, every muscle of her stretched beyond their limits. She groaned, even the sound grating her ears. A weight beside her depressed the mattress. She opened her eyes to Killian's hunched back, and a smile spread across her face.

"Morning," she greeted him groggily, her hand trailing down his spine.

He turned his body, light shining in his eyes and behind his grin. "Good morning indeed, love," he murmured, leaning to her. She reciprocated his movement, so in sync that her forehead met his lips in the exact middle of the space separating them. They kept close, their voices hushed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a train ran over me," she half-heartedly complained, shifting her body to accommodate the bundle she reached for. "Lemme see."

Carefully, Killian passed their child to its mother's awaiting arms, a steady rumble of "Watch yourself, Swan" coming from his chest. She glared at him, but her smile lessened the blow.

"Hey there, kiddo," Emma whispered to the boy. He yawned in response. "Oh yeah, you're real sleepy too, I bet."

Killian slid in next to her, hip against hip, and wrapped his prothesised arm around her waist. "He's got your eyes, love."

"And your head of hair," she countered, brushing a few stray wisps to the frame of her son's face. "You're gonna be a heartbreaker, just like your daddy." Looking to the new father, Emma asked, "Did you go home?"

"No, but I called your parents. They said they'd bring Henry by shortly."

"Real shortly," Henry said from the doorway. Killian waved him over and the teenager quickly joined his slightly bigger family. He patted his step-father on the shoulder and took his mother's free hand.

"Henry," Emma softly said, the baby yawning again, "meet your little brother Liam."

**a/n: i actually wrote this one before everything else. its one of my favorites. im really proud of it. 25 days to go. :)**


	3. C for Captain

**high ho, poorly written smut ahead.**

With the way he'd swaggered into her room at Granny's she should've known what he wanted. His flask in his hand, the leather swaying behind him, a smirk of malicious intent on his face: she should've just known.

Standing from the bed, Emma said, "Why hello there."

"You'll address your captain properly," he bellowed.

Shock furrowed her brows. "Excuse me?"

Killian staggered up to her, sliding his cold hook under her jacket and around her waist. "Let me tell you how it works on my ship," he breathed, the sweet stain of rum weighing his words. "I make the orders and you follow them. Savvy?"

It finally dawned on her: he was just over the tipsy line and thought himself still aboard the Jolly Roger. Oh, was he going to be a sap tomorrow. SO how was she to deal with this pirate currently teasing her spine with the tip of his metal appendage?

An involuntary shiver wracked her body, eliciting a predatory smile from the captain. "Oh, yes, this will be an interesting night."

He didn't so much as kiss her then as inhabit her completely. His lips pressed against hers, yes, but his arms curled around her and his tongue plundering her mouth, a real pirate's way.

Emma could taste rum, but it wasn't strong enough a taste, she knew, for him to be as utterly sloshed as he was acting. She heard the metallic echo of his flask hitting Granny's hardwood floors, but couldn't question why, nor follow her suspicious train of thought, before his warm hand appeared on the skin of her stomach, sneaking up to thumb at her nipple over her bra. Groaning, she instinctively arched into his chest, struggling to relieve her captain of his jacket.

"Bloody hell," Killian moaned when he needed to breathe. His mouth found its way down her neck, hook gently wrapping her hair and tugging for better access. Her eyes slid lose, submerging herself in the feel of his mouth on her skin, going lower and lower until he was mouthing at her breast, his hand sliding over its sister still under her shirt. She was clawing at his chest, searching blind for the buttons of his vest and only finding chest hair. Emma forced him off her long enough to shed her jacket and get the general location of his buttons.

As she finally grappled with the opening of his vest, the sounds of fabric tearing rung in her ears and the sleeves of her shirt fell to the creases of her elbows, revealing the white of her skin. Killian's eyes blackened at the sight, that damn tongue of his putting on a show that heated her cheeks and strung every muscle tight as a bow. He pushed her on the bed, simultaneously ridding Emma of the remains of her shirt and shedding his.

"You're a sight, lass," he growled, kneeling at the foot of the bed. "Wanton, breathless, marked mine." He leaned forward, touching his lips and nose to her navel and causing Emma to intake sharply.

"For fuck's sake," she said breathily. "Just do something."

"Ah, ah," he reprimanded. He dragged the tip of his hook up the seam of her jeans, making Emma cringe and sigh because, even with the denim between the two, it gave her some form of relief to the building pressure inside. "That's not how you speak to your captain."

"I don't have a captain. I'm my own-" she gasped as he unzipped her jeans and pressed a finger to her clit through her panties. "Captain," she whimpered.

The devil shone through his smile. "I quite like how that sounds."

After that, it was a bit of a blur: Emma could only handle so much of his captain persona before the need for him in any costume, any sobriety, any world in her. He gladly agreed and, in moments, he was groaning as he sunk, sunk, sunk further in love and lust and her and then he moved, hovering above her on his elbows, worshipping her face, neck, breasts with kisses and nips and she had one hand in his hair and the other trailing from ass to shoulders, up and down, up and down, and they worked in tandem toward one solitary goal.

It's the feel of his release inside her and his accompanying moan of unadulterated love in her name that unravels her, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. He settled into her perfectly, one puzzle piece to another, and flipped them so she laid on his chest.

When he opened his eyes, Emma's tracing nonsense on his skin. "Care to tell me what that was about?"

Killian shrugged. "I thought you'd be more inclined with the fantasy if I acted as I once did," he explained.

She hummed in response and laid there in quiet, contemplating what to say next.

"Well," she state, lifting her upper body from his. "If I recall correctly, I fell in love with the man you are now. With the tragedies and sorrows you dwelled on then and all your new stories and adventures." She punctuated her point with a kiss. "Don't pretend for my sake. I love you for you." Eyes casted down, she bashfully added a quiet "Captain" to the end of her thought.

He smiled and pulled her down to his chest. "I love you, too," he muttered, "my stubborn, stubborn Swan."

**a/n: bad first attempt at smut writing. im sorry. like, really sorry. tell me how to get better. **


	4. D for Date

It was so stereotypical, he knew: flowers at the door, blushing embarrassment, awkward small talk made a little less awkward by the stolen glances and accidental footsies. He planned on taking her to the nicest place in town for dinner, somewhere worthy of the tight red dress she donned and her "rapturous beauty and wit," in his words. They were walking, shoulder bumping shoulder, the restaurant was in sight, when the angry dwarf and his loud mouth interrupted them, going on about an uproar from some supposed foreign princess.

That was their first attempt.

It was making the best of a situation. Earlier in the day, he met her at the sheriff's station, bundled up to his ears for the evening ahead. When they greeted each other, he handed her a cup of hot chocolate, "Drink up, love. It's going to get icy this evening." She did so more than willingly, the tinge of cinnamon tipping her lips up. They walked, gloved hand in gloved hand, to the designated alley for ice skating, only for the appearance of a rather large and rather menacing snow creature to ruin their outing.

That was their second attempt.

It had to be their luckiest try. Everyone in town knew of their dalliance, knew how vainly they'd worked for this moment. It was with everybody's respect and blatant promise of no interruptions that they headed to the cinema. She introduced him to the sugary confections of the concessions counter and he, in turn, gently laid them on her tongue, his fingers lingering on her lips, before the film began. As the lights dimmed, her phone lit up and started shaking profusely. "You've got to be kidding me." Her lad was sick, and even though he had his other mother and grandparents to care for him, he wanted her home.

That was their third attempt.

It was the last straw. He warned her to leave everything, especially her phone, at home one night, he'd be over in five minutes. She had little idea where they were going, so she merely brushed her teeth and perfected her makeup, not bothering to doll herself up. He arrived as he said he would, his usual leather attire giving nothing away. He hooked her wrist and dragged her into his arms, a blindfold wrapping over her eyes. "Trust me," he whispered throatily, snaking an arm around her waist. He guided her down the stairs and outside until waves lapped at her ears and sea brine mixed in with her perfume. He pulled away the blindfold, revealing a small beach at sunset, hidden away from the rest of the world. They used his jacket as their blanket, sitting on it as the sun sunk away and laying, his shoulder her pillow, on it when the stars rose up. He taught her of Perseus and Carina and Cygnus, his favorite for obvious reasons. She told him the stories of the Little and Big Dipper, how they always brought travelers home.

"They've certainly returned me home tonight. Near the water with my love."

"Mmm. Couldn't have said it better myself."

She curled into his side while his hand traced the trail of her spine. Soon, they were fast asleep, smiles on both their faces and love in both their hearts.

That was their fourth attempt. A successful, long-awaited first date.

**a/n: season 4 date ideas? i mean, i guess ill jump on that bandwagon**


	5. E for Enchanted Forest

"We've got to move," she whispered harshly in the predawn hours of a sleepy village. She whipped around, her skirt billowing out around her. "How do we get somewhere fast?"

"I shall handle transport," Killian calmed her. "You stay here. I'll be back momentarily."

Emma watched her partner (at least, that's what he was in this time period) disappeared into the fading shadows. They needed to get to King Midas's castle ASAP, and, save for a horse-drawn carriage, she had no idea how to get there.

_I can't believe I screwed up that badly_, she thought. It was just like a movie: a tiny branch cracked when she adjusted her position. Her mother, or rather the bandit Snow White, fell from her treetop perch and ran, frightened away by a stupid stereotypical cinematic effect. Thus avoiding her fateful first meeting with Prince James.

_I've singlehandedly ruined the greatest love story known to man. I've stopped my parents from meeting._

But the Dark One had restored a smidge of hope. She could get her parents to meet. She could fix the timeline, just tweak it a little. If only they got to Midas's castle for this ball tonight.

Before the reality of seeing a ball, an actual royal ball, sunk in, Killian returned, two ropes in his hand and two steeds trailing behind him.

"You ready, Swan?" he asked, passing her a rein.

Emma stared at the night black horse, sniffing its temporary rider. She petted it snout and looked to Killian, who'd already mounted the amber creature in his possession. "Did you steal these horses?"

He sighed and clicked his tongue. His horse slowly spun until Killian pulled the reins. "Borrow," he corrected her. "These beasts will find their way home after we set them free." The horse stomped, indicating its impatience. "Now come, love. We've got a marriage to save."

Shaking her head, Emma took a hesitant step away from her 'borrowed' ride. "Oh hell no," she said, meeting his playful gaze with worry. "I'm not riding this horse."

"Swan," Killian whined. "This is the fastest travel method."

"B-but," she stuttered, searching for any excuse. "I'm in a dress."

"A very fetching dress." The stupid pirate raised his eyebrow and smirked, a glowing and impossibly attractive expression in the early morning hours. "Are you scared, darling?" he asked.

"No," Emma quickly scoffed, suddenly becoming interested in the dirt her horse was pawing at. "I'm just not a particular fan of entrusting my safety to a task I can't do in a time and place I don't belong." She faced him again, worrying the fingers of her free hand. "What if I break my leg or something?"

Killian clicked his tongue again, trotted his horse beside her, and tugged the rope to a stop. "I won't let that happen. Let go of the reins."

Emma followed his order and allowed him to bring her body flush with his horse's flank. He slapped the other's hind quarters. It bayed loudly and galloped back in the direction Killian brought them from.

"Hurry, love," he cried, grabbing her hands and yanking her on the horse's back in front of him. "That'd have woken half of town."

Without another word, Emma took hold of the reins next to the tangles on his hook. His arm wrapped around her waist, the crudest seatbelt she'd ever worn, and he kicked his heels in the horse's ribs with a "Yah!" His chest curled against her spine, causing her to bend forward with him. The wind whipped her skirt around her legs, an awkward breeze finding its way up a few times. Galloping past the trees and huts of this village was breathtakingly exhilarating. Emma felt like the heroine to her own fairytale, rescuing her parents from another life, all with Killian by her side.

It was surreal.

They'd been speeding down the poor excuse of a road for maybe twenty minutes when Killian eased back, slowing the horse to a trot. "How you doing there?" he inquired a little breathlessly in her ear.

She took a few deep breaths before responding. "That was incredible."

His chuckle vibrated though his body into hers, at her hips, her hands, anywhere they touched (which was everywhere). "I'm glad you're enjoying it now." He squeezed her waist and rest his chin on her shoulder. "Tomorrow will be a different tale."

Emma sighed and relaxed into Killian's arms, taking in her surroundings. The sun had just started to rise, casting orange and yellow hues on the green of the forest. It was one of the most beautiful sights she'd even seen, made only more so by the circumstances.

And then the irony hit. She groaned, hitting her forehead with her palm. "Are you kidding me?"

"What is it now, Swan?" he asked, frustration bleeding through in the roughness of his accent.

She turned her neck to look him in the eyes. "Look at that!" she exclaimed, throwing her arm over the horse's head. "We're literally riding off into the sunset together!"

In true confused Killian fashion, the furrow between his eyebrows appeared. "But the day's just beginning," he astutely pointed out.

Emma sighed and settled in for the rest of their journey. So her fairytale was a little unconventional. When had her life been otherwise?

**a/n: shout out to ff user the-art-of-escape for the idea of an Enchanted Forest au. I know you suggested that a while ago, but it seemed fitting here. also, i just really liked the idea of Emma and Killian riding off into the sunset because its silly. 23 days? 22 days?**


	6. F for Facets

She sometimes forgets how much she doesn't know about him.

"What's that?" she asks when he visits the station one day, grocery bag in hand and four more on his hook.

His eyebrows raise in a look of quizzical simplicity. "Rations, Swan," he answers with a shrug. "I thought I might make you and your family a meal tonight. As a sign of my gratitude."

Emma tilts her head to her should. "You can cook?"

Killian smiles. "I haven't in a while, but I cooked my fair share of meals in the galley."

She gave a quiet "Huh" and returned to the paperwork on her desk. "I'm sure Mary Margaret would love a break," she says, waving him away. "She'll let you in. Just tell her your plan and she can show you where everything is."

"I am already quite familiar with the corners and crevices of your parents' home, love," he says huskily in her ear. "In case you've forgotten our bouts of recreational enjoyment."

After the shock of his voice nearby, Emma shoves him away before he could land a kiss to her cheek. "Go. I'll see you tonight." He winks and struts back out the station, provisions in tow.

Once she is sure he was gone, the door clicking shut, to no one in particular she mutters, "He can cook?"

0000

He must watch what he says.

"Sorry I'm late, Dave," he apologizes. They were supposed to meet nearly twenty minutes ago at the docks, something about searching the cannery, but Killian had overslept. "Twas a long and laborious night."

The prince whirls around and grabs the lapels of his beloved jacket. "Knock it off," he growls and pushes the pirate harshly away. "Look, it's great being mates and all, but every time you make a lewd comments like that I'm inclined to punch you."

"What the bloody hell?"

David stalks off into the cannery, fuming, while a befuddled Killian trailed behind. "It's a miracle I haven't murdered you already."

"Seeing as you're the deputy and your daughter is sheriff-"

"Exactly!" David interrupts, jamming a finger in the pirate's shoulder. "My daughter! You are dating my daughter. And while it's nice to know that, for all intents and purposes, you're making her happy, I don't want to hear about my little girl's sex life with Captain Hook!"

Comprehension strikes him and he immediately turns contrite. He places a hand on the prince's shoulder. "My most sincere apologies. I'll watch my tongue, mate." He gestures to the open door of the cannery. "Shall we then?"

0000

She should've guessed.

Henry was in a foul, teenage angst mood. HE came home from school one afternoon grumbling.

"What's wrong, kid?" Emma asked from behind the kitchen island.

"Nothing" was his curt reply. She opened her mouth to question him further, but he yelled at her, "God, stop trying to stifle me, just leave me alone!" Startled by the outburst, Emma watched him storm up to his room and heard him slam the door shut.

Killian walked in not too long afterwards, greeting her with a quick kiss and a "How are you this afternoon, love?"

She shrugged. "Henry came in from school and just went on a rampage."

The pirate observed the room for any sign of the boy. "And where is he now?"

"Up in his room sulking."

He patted her shoulder and ascended the staircase. Emma watched him cautiously knock and enter Henry's room.

Killian had housed and guided Neal around this age, tried to keep him aboard the Jolly Roger as his adopted son. While Henry was in no shortage of father figures, he was short a father. To make matters worse, Neal had sacrifice himself for the good of the town before his son remembered who he was. Maybe, just maybe, Killian had the talent to heal that wound. David and Robin, Marco and Grumpy, and any other townsmen could teach him the basic aspects of manhood, but only Killian had that connection to his father. The pirate would never try and fill Neal's shoes, but he could definitely help Henry find his own pair.

Sure enough, the door to her son's room opened twenty minutes later, Henry smiling with Killian's arm around his shoulder as they came downstairs for dinner.

0000

He would've never thought.

Emma sat up against the headboard of their bed, a pen in one hand and a notepad in the other, when he returned from the bathroom.

"What have you got there, Swan?" he inquired, crawling under the sheets next to her. She quickly tried to hide the notepad amidst mumbles of "Nothing, nothing."

"No, come now, lemme see."

"Killian, no," she pleaded, trying to keep it from his reaching hands. She couldn't, of course, her arms too short and her heart too weak for his charms. He simultaneously apologized and thanked her with a deep kiss, stealing her breath away, before turning his attention to the paper.

There were drawings, little doodles on the solid blue lines. Flipping through the pad, the art continued, page after page. Little cartoon figures under a tree, the front face of a building. There was a sketch of her parents and brother at Granny's and a portrait of Henry. And his face, contorted into every emotion he'd ever felt and even some he hadn't.

"You drew these?" h quietly and astoundingly asked, glancing from her to the page.

Emma pulled the covers up to her chin like she meant to cover her reddening face with it. "They aren't very good," she shyly countered him. "There's no need to pretend. They're not as good as yours."

Flabbergasted, Killian stared at her. "Quite right. They're better." He handed the pad back to her. "Emma, those are beautiful. Where did you learn to draw like that?"

She put the pen and paper away and snuggled closer to him. "Nowhere. I used to draw squiggles in school instead of take notes and I had lots of free time to perfect it in jail."

"I wish I'd had known I was in bed with a fellow artist. I'd've asked you to model nude for me."

He felt her smile in his chest. "You can still ask."

"But see," he said, rolling them over so she lay beneath him. "There are much more enjoyable activities I'd rather do with you unclothed."

It could've been the light playing tricks on him, but Killian swore she winked before she breathlessly demanded, "Show me."

**a/n: i couldve done fairy tale, it was literally right there, but i couldnt think of anything that wasnt cheesy. soooo cheesy.**

**im sorry i havent done this earlier, but i want to thank all of you who favorited/commented/followed/read this series. i know its not even halfway over, but i really do appreciate every single one of you. i only recently started sharing my writing, and every time you guys do the thing, it makes me want to share more.**

**21 days :)**


	7. G for Grumpy

"Swan, wait," Killian shouted after her to no avail. He groaned and ran after her, a new hobby he didn't knew he'd taken up. Catching up to her at the corner of the building, he hooked the crook of her elbow and pulled her to a stop. "Please, I just want to speak with you."

"About what?" she hissed. Emma gestured to the backs of her parents, growing smaller as they continued pushing Neal's stroller down the street. "Look, in case you haven't noticed, I have a family, an actual mom and dad and brother and son and it's all I've ever wanted." Her voice had grown low and he could tell she edged on begging him. "If you've got something that important to say," she said, "say it so I can get back to them."

He smiled, tongue sliding over his teeth. Her hands slid into her back pickets and she sighed. "What's that smirk about?" she quietly asked.

"I was going to request your presence at dinner tonight," he uttered, slightly tugging on the zipper of her beloved leather jacket and taking a step closer. "But if you would like to decline the invitation, I would understand. The company of a long-awaited family surely trumps that of a one-handed pirate."

Emma's mouth opened, the jade jewels of her eyes glimmering with mirth and apology. "Now, hold on a second," she said, swaying into him so much she was forced to take a step closer to him. The corner of her lips tipped up. "That's not what I meant."

Killian cocked his head to the side, a grin already anticipating her answer. She straightened up, balancing on her toes and meeting him eye to eye. "Then what say you?" he asked.

She swung her hips a little as if one side was 'yes' and the other 'no.' Emma inhaled to reply to his offer when, all of a sudden, yells of "WHERE'S The SAVIOR?" stopped her. Grumpy and the rest of the dwarves, with an assortment of other townsfolk, came toward her, most stopping at her parents' side. Leroy, however, had other ideas. He marched right up to Emma, much to Killian's dismay. She could tell the way his eyes rolled to the sky asking whatever higher power for patience, that he was no pleased with the dwarf's interruption.

"Emma, some blonde in blue just stormed down Main Street and glazed it with ice."

Her eyebrows shot up. "So?" she said. "Throw some salt on it."

Living up to his name, Grumpy harrumphed. "It's a freezer, sister," he told her. "Gray clouds foggy breath. It's basically January in the middle of April."

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Alright," she finally conceded with a wave of her hand. "Go up with David and Mary Margaret. I'll be there in a sec."

Satisfied with her response, he left to rejoin his brothers. Emma groaned and focus back on Killian. His boyish look told her he'd already accepted her unsaid apology. "Duty calls," he uttered sadly, hold his arm out in some half bow he did when he wished to hide his face.

She took his hand in hers, relishing in the warmth and feel of his callouses. He glanced up. "Dinner sounds great," she answered, pulling him along. His countenance brightened significantly, her agreement putting enough energy in him to match her stride. "But not tonight."

It was Killian's turn to pull her along, wrapping their joined hands around her waist and bringing her closer. "I've waited centuries for you, love," he whispered in her ear over the din of the gathered crowd. "I'll gladly wait centuries more if it meant I got you."

**a/n: based off spoiler pics. although i think i mixed up two different sets. ah well, it ended up alright. as always, feel free to leave a word. 20 days :)**


	8. H for Henry

Killian had never had much schooling when he was younger. His father always needed help making enough money for dinner and Killian always prided himself on his useful knowledge rather than what he though some bounded parchment could teach him.

In fact, his formal education didn't begin until after Liam joined the navy. Like always, following his older brother's path in life was Killian's dream. It wasn't until Liam informed him of all the challenges he'd learn to overcome from books that Killian began to get an education seriously.

And, as he stood on the outskirts of the schoolyard, he briefly wondered how he would turned out if, like this realm's children, he'd begun at a young age.

His reverie broke when the shrill bell of dismissal rand and bodies came flooding from every door. Killian recognized a few of the children, little Roland and the Hatter's daughter, before catching sight of Henry.

"You know, I can walk home myself," he grumbled, embarrassed that one of his ever-increasing number of guardians still waited to walk him home.

"I'm not here to protect you," Killian told him, falling in line with his steps. "I wanted to see if you might enjoy a trip to the sheriff's station before you visit your mother."

Henry looked at him perplexedly. "Why is my mom in jail this time?"

Killian shook his head. "Pardon? No, neither Regina nor Emma are incarcerated." Henry shrugged and mumbled sounds of surprise. "No," the pirate continued, placing his hand on the lad's shoulder. "I merely meant your mother wouldn't mind a brief visit from her son before you go off to the queen's house."

Henry looked at him, hopefulness and joy in his open face, so much like his father's back when he was Killian's boy. "I like that."

They walked in companionable silence, occasionally bumping shoulder, until a patch of flowers appeared on the edge of the sidewalk. Henry crouched down and began plucking some in a bunch in his hand. He craned his neck back to Killian and held out a single dandelion.

"While I'm flattered, lad," he said, accepting the weed, "I can't say um a man for botany."

His childish chuckles bounced off the pavement. Henry pulled him down to the sidewalk by his hook. "It's not for you," the boy explained. He motioned for Killian to follow his suit. "I used to do this for my mom when I was a kid. Emma would get a kick out of it."

Curiously, Killian swiftly flicked the bottom of a few of the weeds and scooped them up in his hand. The mélange of flowers and colors pleased his eyes, warmed him on the chilly spring afternoon. It would certainly brighten up the bland walls of the station.

With a few adjustments from Henry, the pair continued their path, reaching the station in mere minutes. Henry walked in first, jogging in past Emma and giving his grandfather a slamming hug.

"Wow, kid," she proclaimed, spinning around in her seat. "It's not like I gave birth to you or anything."

"He was just giving me a chance to greet you first," Killian murmured in her ear, rotating her chair to face him. He presented her with the small bouquet of flowers, Emma's smile growing wider. "Good afternoon, Swan," he said, meeting her lips with his.

"Hi handsome," she sighed, graciously accepting his offering. "What are these for?"

"We saw them on the walk over," Henry informed her, coming up to the front to her desk. "I started picking some for Regina and he thought you'd enjoy some.

Killian grinned at the boy's generous explanation. Always one to be on his side. He was a good kid, just as much his friend as his lover's son.

Emma smiled at Henry then faced Killian, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Well, thank you. Both of you." She played with one of the blooms, bringing it up to her nose to sniff. "I don't think I've ever gotten a sidewalk bouquet before."

Henry winked at Killian as he hugged his mother.

"I doubt it will be your last, love."

**a/n: yayy captain cobra swan.**


	9. I for Impetuous

She saw the car coming and thought him fine, on the other side of the road bidding farewell to her father. He took a step into the street and faced her, eyes dancing and all too familiar swaggering step. He would make it, or be smart enough to look away for a fraction of a second to check his surroundings.

Except he wasn't. He didn't. And, if anything, Emma swore the driver sped up.

She didn't think. She just moved.

0000

A blink of an eye. It's in that unnoticeable span of time that he could've sworn his heart stopped. He was on the ground, just out of the vehicle's reach, banged up on the knees but otherwise healthy while Swan…

It must've hit her hard. Those long lean legs of hers disappeared under the hood and her luscious blonde hair splayed straight into a puddle.

A puddle slowly growing darker and redder.

"No," Kilian whispered. He scurried to her side and brushed what little dry hair she had on her face away. She looked peacefully, like she was merely dozing in the middle of the street. Except she couldn't have been: her breathing was sporadic, her skin too pale, and her temple caking in blood.

"Swan," he murmured, shaking her shoulder. "Swan, please."

The car rattled back to life, the tires squealing as it reversed and drove from the scene. David, Killian would later learn, saw the entire ordeal and had called for an ambulance before pursuing his daughter's assailant.

But that didn't matter. She was too cold from rain water or blood loss. Killian shifted himself, pulling her head into his lap. He twisted his hook off quickly, throwing it god-knows where but unwilling to even ponder hurting Swan further. Covering his stump with his sleeve, Killian tried to staunch her wound's bleeding.

"Swan, love." His fingers lingered on the dimple of her chin, on her jaw. He bent over her blocking out the crescendo of noise and onlookers coming to see the commotion. "Emma, love, please wake," he whispered. "I need your bravery and your wit."

His hand followed the path of her neck down to her chest. He felt for a heartbeat over her jacket, relieved to find one, albeit weak. Frustration mounting, Killian pressed his forehead to Emma's.

"Bloody hell, Emma," he muttered, "I need you, my stubborn lass."

The silence that battered him seemed to last forever. Some others came to his side, asking question after question to which he knew no answer, directing traffic around them. But all he could focus on was the steadying rise and fall of her chest and the spread of her blood on his stump.

He heard the approaching sirens, the flashes of light catching the corner of his eye. "Finally," he said to no one in particular. "Don't worry, Swan. Just keep strong. You're going to be right as rain."

As the paramedics prepared a gurney, Killian gently kissed her forehead. "Don't leave me, Emma."

A groan from beneath his lips took him by surprise. "Still worried I'll run?" she muttered groggily, slowly coming back to life. She winced as she moved her arm. "What the hell happened?"

He couldn't contain his joy: he peppered kisses on her cheeks, pressed his lips to hers. "Worry not, Swan," he assured her, allowing the paramedics to begin examining her injuries. "I'll explain fully once you're well."

Killian stepped away for a moment for the professionals to work, but came back to her side when she was settled on the gurney. She untucked her hand from the blanket they'd laid on top of her and reached for his, tangling their fingers.

Her eyes widened suddenly. "Are you okay? Why aren't they checking you out? How come-"

His thumb circled the back of her hand. "I told you not to worry, love. Some crazed woman pushed me from the vessel's path."

Emma hummed, fatigue threatening to take her again. "You should thank her for her quick thinking."

He chuckled. "Oh, I'll thank her quite thoroughly when she'd healed."

The paramedics wheeled Emma to the back of the ambulance, allowing Killian to keep his vigil until they loaded her in. "I'll see you later?" she asked as one door closed.

He nodded and winked. "As you wish."

**a/n: impetuous- acting or done quickly and without thought or care. it seemed fitting. kind of like a role reversal of the whole 'killians done been drowned and emmas gotta kiss him awake' we saw with zelena.**

**i dont know if ive done this before, but just reaffirming what you guys already know. i dont not own these characters, nor do i claim to own them. they belong to the minds of ABC, Eddy Kitsis, and Adam Horowitz. no stealing, just brain borrowing.**

**18 daysssss hooray under twenty. also, i am in need of a word beginning with z. i have all the other words and letters chosen, save for that pesky last one. if you have any ideas, go ahead and tell me. i found a frickin x word but not z. bwah.**

**until tomorrow :)**


	10. J for Jello

You would've thought he was a dying man. He was a pirate, for goodness sake. Captain Hook had to have had something worse than the flu before. He had one hand!

"Oh, calm down, drama queen," she shouted from the kitchen. Killian lay on the couch, groaning and carrying on, covered in blankets in Emma's feeble attempt to break his fever.

"Swan, I'm positive I'm on my deathbed," he moaned in between coughs.

Emma sighed. "What, the fearsome Captain Hook can't live through the most common illness in this realm, but can survive his hand being chopped off?" The soup she'd had on the stove finished, she ladled it in to a bowl on a tray. Cautiously, she lifted the tray and walked it to the coffee table.

To his credit, Killian was a wreck. His hair was matted on his sweaty forehead, his nose a bright red. He somehow managed to pull off the sick as a dog look quite well, the bastard. When she was sick, Emma was the mirror image of the crypt keeper.

"You need some food in your stomach," she said, trying to spoon some soup in his mouth.

Shaking his head, he pushed her hand away gently. "Thank you, but perhaps if I were to have some of that colorful substance."

Putting the spoon back in the bowl, Emma asked, "colorful substance?"

"Yes, Swan," he sighed with a roll of his eyes. "It comes in little cubes and wriggles when shaken." When she obviously didn't understand what he meant, he sniffed and sighed again. "I've been give it on each occasion I've been in hospital. It must have some medicinal property if your physicians insist one eats it."

Quiet followed his statement, broken only by Killian's sniffs and whimpers (he really was like a little puppy.) Emma tried to figure out what he was talking about.

When it hit her, her eyebrows rose. "You mean jello?"

"Sure," he offhandedly agreed, fidgeting underneath the blankets.

Try as she might, Emma couldn't keep her giggles from over spilling her lips. His eyes, dimmed but the sickness, flared a bit. She slapped her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, Killian. It's just," she chuckled, "it's just jello has no value whatsoever. It's cheap and easy to eat."

His eyebrow cocked in reply. "You mean to tell me I ate that wormish food for nothing?"

Emma moved her hand from her mouth to his cheek. His hazy state had him cradling his cheek in her palm. Emma's mocking grin transformed into a loving one.

"If it makes you feel better, I can make you some jello."

He purred like a happy cat. "If you just stay perfectly still, you'll be so much better than jello."

**a/n: yayyy jiggle jello. jiggle jiggle jiggle.**

**im so happy yall like these. i started working on this project on a whim before school started and its giving me something to look forward to everyday while im struggling through the first month of classes and the last month of hiatus. and thank you for all the Z words! i still havent decided, but so many options.**

**17 days :)**


	11. K for Kindred Spirits

It's more than just their backgrounds that make them similar.

It's their habits. The way neither can think quite as clearly on land as they do at sea, on it, in it, around it. The water with its soothing sloshes against the hull of his ship sung him to sleep for centuries. The waves crashing on the sand do a disappearing act on the footsteps of her past, something she is now incredibly proud to have survived to get here. How she will do anything to keep him a part of town, a part of something, a part of her life. How he follows her lead to the ends of the earth, the ends of time, the ends of ends.

It's in their complements. Endless storms and rude awakenings have him up before the cock crows, enough time to ready himself and a meal for her. But skeezying marks and hounding visions force a night owl of her, never one to sleep before the clock strikes midnight, always the one to instigate a roll in the hay or bed or whatever location holds her latest fantasy. He cooks and she cleans, she pushes, he pulls, they move perfectly in sync, in tandem, matched stride for stride.

It's in their understanding. Huge shops with aisle against aisle bewilder him to no end. She can't look at the insides of machines and put them back once more. Drawing landscapes are beautiful, but portraits leave a bad taste on his tongue. Prison documentaries fascinate her, but something about "the New Black" gives her nightmares.

It's in their family. Liam's as much her brother as Henry is his son. Her parents his, his crew hers. They are the same being, different eyes, different stories, all mixed and melded into the best that either could ever be.

It's in their love. He hides nothing, says it outright in his pet names and actions. Let's the whole world know that she's his Swan, his Savior and light and be-all-end-all. She internalizes everything, says it in doey-eyes and private occasions. Her love is rare, only for those precious enough to have it know their full worth behind closed doors. But if the world just so happens to hear her name fall from her pirate's lips, or his from hers, behind those doors, she's not going to apologize for something so enchanting as her love for him.

**a/n: sorry sorry its late, i know, and its short, i know, but life, you know?**


	12. L for Leia

She couldn't breathe, the corset squishing her diaphragm and definitely bruising her ribs, but damn if this poufy ball gown didn't make her boobs look great. Just as her peasant disguise did. Offhandedly, Emma contemplated staying here in the past just to keep her cleavage on classy and socially acceptable display. She found nothing wrong with that.

And, by the way he was staring, Hook couldn't either. Mr. Go- Rumpelstiltskin was just finishing his review of his magical capabilities, 'All magic comes with a price, dearie' and whatnot, but from the corner of her vision, she caught her companion's not at all subtle gaze.

When Rumpelstiltskin, in all his creepy impish glory, disappeared with a giggle (he's not going to live that down) and a flourish of red smoke, he transported them to the village just outside Midas's castle.

"Great," Emma grumbled. "Fairy Goldmother gives up the look, but's too cheap for the pumpkin carriage." She glanced at Kilian, who hadn't even noticed their change in scenery. Snapping at him, she caught his attention, baby blues meeting her eyes. "Hey buddy, eyes up here."

"But, Swan," he smirked, "the view's much better there."

She sneered at him, rustling the pouf of her dress for a hand hold. "Let's just go before I cease to exist," she said, not bothering to see if he followed.

0000

Even she'll admit, it was pretty impressive, how the torches' light gleamed off the walls of the castle, the bridge, the main gate. Killian hadn't been kidding and neither had, to her relief, the fairytale she knew (that's a first.) Midas's everything was gold.

"Awestruck yet?" Killian whispered in her ear as they waited to be admitted, his arm threaded though hers.

Emma gave a very unladylike snort, causing the couple in front of them to glare in discontent. "It's glittery to say the least. I'm sure the pirate in you is having a field day," she joked.

"I've no idea what a field day is," he murmured, a glint in his eyes, "but I must be the luckiest man in the realm to be in the presence of two wondrous treasures."

"Oh, yeah," she countered, the couple in front of them handing over their ornate invitation to a guard. "The castle and what else?"

"You, of course" was his short reply. He took a step forward, Emma only following because of the connection of their arms, and produced their faked and/or stolen invitation. Gaining approval from the guard, Killian followed the mingling crowd to the ballroom.

0000

'Cut quite the figure,' huh? Emma wasn't exactly sure what he'd meant, but it was obviously a compliment in his eyes, and therefore was one in hers. As if she hadn't blushed enough that evening, she felt heat in her cheeks again, a lower caliber than before, but she had no doubt her face matched the hue of her dress.

"Greetings," a crowned man said as he approached. "I'm King Midas, father of the bride. Who do I have the honor to welcome into my home?"

Shit.

As graceful as ever (seriously, he's a lothario around women and an asshole to men, but throw him in front of a king and he's a moron,) Killian tried to stutter his way through a lie before Emma did it for him.

"Prince Charles," she said with all the confidence of a well-trained liar. "And I'm Princess…"

Shit. What was a name? Literally, any girl's name besides her own. God, why was she even here? Wasn't it less than a month ago, she was blissfully ignorant of this realm? In New York, lollygagging on the couch with her son, debating which Star Wars trilogy was better. Obviously it was the original three, with Yoda and the Death Star and Han Solo and Princess-

"Leia."

0000

This couldn't actually be happening. No, this had to be a dream. A fantastic dream straight out of a Disney movie, arms gracing the air and partnered couples circling the tiled floor, orchestral scores from actual musicians playing at her ears.

No. Emma Swan, ex-jailbird who didn't even go to her middle school formal, couldn't possibly be at a legitimate ball.

Except she was. With the coiffed hair and handsome date (face it, that's what he is. Deny it later) and everything every little girl could dream of.

And he was expecting her to blend in. (But how can you blend in when you're literally living a fairytale?)

"Are you saying you know how to do," she hesitated as Killian led her to the dance floor, "whatever this is?"

"It's called a waltz," he helpfully supplied, setting one of her hands on his shoulder and his real, warm hand on her waist. "There's only one rule."

His wooden hand, gloved in black leather like its twin, hung in the air, hers lightly resting atop it. Emma saw the sadness in his face, how much he wanted to feel her hand in his. That only made her grip it tighter because, dear God, he was her lifeline in this ocean of adventure. He needed her confidence, her certainty that this was, in fact, the best night she'd had ever, her trust to keep her afloat on their mission to correct the past.

She needed him.

And when he looked up from their hands, he paused before he spoke, catching her looking at him with utter trust and complete dependence (just in this situation. She was completely independent on her own turf) written across her features like stars across the sky.

"Pick a partner who knows what he's doing."

She had. They twirled with the expertise of a professional, her feet gliding under the fabric of her dress and their arms flitting in time through the air. The smile on her face kept growing and growing, infecting Killian. He teased her and she him and, for once in her life, the lost girl got to live her fairytale.

**a/n: happy emma makes for a happy shipper. :) 15 days**


	13. M for Magic

"Miss. Swan, you've got to get your power under control," Regina frustratingly growled. "You aren't going to be able to pull a rabbit from a hat, let alone be useful if you don't gain control."

Emma huffed in disappointed irritation. They had been in this lesson for close to two hours now, and had nothing to show for it. "Maybe if you actually told me how to do that, we'd be getting somewhere," she retorted.

The other woman casually leaned against the stones of the wishing well, a smug expression on her face. "As I said before, I can't tell you." She crossed her arms across her chest. "Everybody has a different method to control."

Kicking the trunk of a nearby tree, Emma sighed. "Fine, what's yours?"

Regina shook her head. "No, you can't get in my head like that. I'm still angry with you." She pushed off the well and pointed an accusatory finger at the blonde. "The only reasons I'm even here attempting this is because Elsa won't trust anyone but you and your stupid pirate."

"Hey," Emma barked, but failed to come up with a witty response, so settled with "Shut up."

Regina rolled her eyes. "The way Rumple taught me and I know tried to teach you was magic is emotion," she explained. "The deeper and stronger, the more powerful. However," she qualified, levitating a small pebble and chucking it at Emma for her attention, "positive emotions are more easily controlled."

Rubbing her shoulder, Emma gave her a disbelieving stare. "Are you actually telling me to think of any happy little thought?"

The queen sighed heavily. "If I were explaining this to a six-year-old, which I apparently am," she quipped, "yes."

What in her miserable and lonely life was happy enough for her to control her magic? It's not like she could draw on her childhood, chasing fireflies in the summer or being surrounded by family as she blew out birthday candles. She could try any of her memories of Henry or her parents, but she didn't think them enough. Even if they did make her happy, she was still reluctant to accept them as her real family; eventually, they, like everyone else, would run out on her.

Regina sighed and strolled back to the well to wait. "You're just as moronic as your pirate sometimes," she uttered under her breath.

The discovery hit her like a wall. Her mouth dropped and her eyes went wide. Regina caught her expression and clutched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.

Of course. Killian. Emma tried to tell herself that their relationship was new, that's why she didn't think of him.

That was a blatant lie.

She hated to be one of those girls who thought their life and joie de vivre only began because of their significant other. But, in her case, it was almost the truth. Killian was the final member of the family she'd yearned for. Emma hadn't known true happiness until after he'd wormed his way past her walls and into her heart.

"When you're done with goo-goo eyes," an uninterested Regina interrupted, "try transporting something." And then she returned to grooming her nails.

Emma blocked the queen from her mind. Closing her eyes, she imagined them in the kitchen, mid-dinner preparations. He, for some reason unbeknownst to her, came up and took her in his arms. Little by little, he swayed their bodies, an intimate soundless dance between stirs of sauce. She thought of him caring for Henry while she worked, and their journey up the beanstalk. Neverland, his constant protective eye, the warmth of his kisses, of his body next to hers in bed, spread through her bones, making her feel like the sunshine he often compared her to.

Happiness. She felt happy.

Squinting one eye open, Emma focused her energy on the task at hand. Her giggles spilled from her lips when Regina fell on her ass, the well she leaned on magically disappearing and reappearing next to Emma.

"Hilarious," she drawled, righting herself.

"What can I say?" Emma replied, hip jutting out to steady against the well. "Sometimes my stupid pirate is good for something other than his looks."

**a/n: YOU GUYS ARE SO LOVELY YOU KEEP ME GOING MWAH 14 DAYS**


	14. N for Navy

The stars were unusually bright that evening. It was a welcome sight after a day in the shadows of below deck. Killian was heading up to the held to speak with his brother after finally completing his inspection of the crew's quarters, as his captain ordered.

"Good evening, little brother." His voice boomed through the still and calmness of the ocean's night. He slapped Killian on the back when he arrived meekly at his side.

"Liam, please don't call me your little brother," he pleaded. "I've worked hard for my title of lieutenant and I would greatly appreciate it if you treated me as such."

"My, Killian, confidence becomes you."

Giving Liam a sarcastic smile, Killian marched to the starboard side of the Jewel. "I've never enjoyed your belittling."

Liam sighed and adjusted the captain's wheel. "It's only because I'm used to you being a boy, not a man I'm proud to call my kin."

The touching moment between the Jones brothers was cut short by the rumblings within. Killian turned back, looking from whence he came and Liam sighed again. "Would you mind steering while I see what the problem is?" he asked.

"I'm here to follow your orders, captain," Killian quipped, adding an illustrious bow for good measure. Liam chuckled and patted his brother on the shoulder as he passed, headed for the main deck and the cabins further down.

With both hands on the spindles of the wheel, Killian imitated his brother's stance to a tee. He knew, as did the crew, and behind closed doors he knew they teased and quartered him for it. Killian wan unlike his fellow officers: his only companions on their journeys were books and, on occasions where he wasn't busy, Liam. He knew every rule, followed every order, and was as straight-laced as they came. Only when heaven and hell together froze over would he drink alcohol, the deceitful draft a surefire sigh of bad form. While the other men went in to port for a night of rum and 'company,' the virginal Killian stayed back and guarded the Jewel of the Realm.

But what his naval men didn't know was that, on those nights alone, he had the pleasure of his own kind of 'company.'

She very well may have been a figment of his imagination, a minx of the mind's creation, but whenever the men went ashore, she came aboard in their stead. Golden strands of hair haloed her face, green eyes jumping with wit and glee. She'd join him in whatever he endeavored, reading or cleaning or whatever menial task, keeping him from solitude. For all the words and stories he read in her eyes, she never said a word. Just rolled her eyes or moved to hit him.

She was perfect.

But she didn't exist.

A lonely Killian would think of his graceful swan woman, the lithe sway in her hips and the quirk of her lips, in moments like this. The deck would be all the more brighter with his dream lass, brighter than any of the stars could shine.

If only she were to exist.

**a/n: plot twist: SHE DOES EXIST. just in a different realm and time, but you know, she still exists.**

**i totally forgot to mention that yesterday was the halfway point, but if youre at all familiar with the english alphabet, you guys are all smart enough cookies to figure that out on your own.**

**ok, back to freaking out about real life. until tomorrow :)**


	15. O for Orphans

There had been mere flurries when Snow and David left earlier that evening. It'd been doing the same for days on end, so Emma thought nothing of it when she shut the door, practically shoving her parents away for a well-deserved and needed date night.

But now the streetlights barely shone, snow completely obscuring the light beams. In the past hour alone, at least eight inches had accumulated on the ground. And while, yes, this was Maine, snow rarely came down in midspring.

"Worry not, Swan," his deep voice soothed her from behind. Neal was halfway asleep in her arms, head balancing on her collarbone, as she stared out the window.

"I'm not worried," she sighed, turning away from the blizzard. Killian saw right through her façade, but let her walk away without comment.

"Let me carry him," he offered, his hand coming to rest on the child's small back.

Emma brushed it off with a shake of her head. Her free hand came over Killian's and cradled Neal closer. He gave an exasperated sigh and threaded his hook through her belt loop. Pulling her into his side, his hooked arm wrapped around her waist.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked again to her temple.

"Nothing's wrong," she moaned.

He raised his brow. "Your body language says otherwise."

Emma swayed from side to side, telling herself it was for Neal's sake, but using it as a procrastinating method. "It's nothing," she insisted. "Really, Killian. It's noth-"

His hand and hook found a place on her hips, halting her balancing act. She inhaled deeply, taken aback by the action. Neal stirred a bit, burrowing deeper into his sister's shoulder.

"Emma," Killian murmured, "whatever is on your mind, you can share with me."

She bit the inside of her cheek, willing her nonsensical emotions away. Quickly and gently as possible, Emma settled on the couch, Killian following her. Watching her baby brother sleep peacefully, unaware of the storm worsening in the dark outside, she whispered, "I'm scared."

"Of what?"

She shook her head. "It's stupid."

"It doesn't matter," he comforted her, pulling her into his chest. "If something frightens my brave Swan, then it's worth being scared of."

Taking courage in his declaration, Emma said, "I'm afraid they won't come back. That they'll run off the road or freeze in a ditch. Mary Margaret and David." She rearranged Neal so he was cradled in her arms. Killian aimlessly played with one of the baby's pajama-clad feet, waiting for her to continue. "It's just...I don't want him to end up like me. I was an orphan and that messed me up big time, but they had no choice. For Neal, to have our parents ripped away in something so tame as a weather malfunction, l mean, he, we can't be orphans again. The system is horrible and," she blinked away the tears in her blurred vision. "They have to come back, but what if they don't?"

Emma finally looked to her pirate, heartbroken nearly as much as she was. He put his palm to her hair, combing his fingers behind her ear. "Your parents will return, Swan. But, gods forbid they didn't, Neal would never be an orphan. Not like you and I were," he said gently. "Orphans like us went unloved and unwanted. This little prince," he wiggled Neal's foot, "hasn't gone a single day without those. He has all the dwarves and the wolf girl. He has the Queen and Hood, Belle and the crocodile. He has me and Henry, but most importantly, he has an older sister that would stop at nothing to keep him from this system you abhor."

Emma gave him a timid smile, facing him head-on. "No matter what happens," Killian whispered vehemently, "this little boy will be loved every day of his life. You needn't worry of him ever being an orphan." He slowly pulled her chin to him, lips connecting and ridding Emma of any doubts or fears that remained.

When he leaned away, she followed, needing to catch herself with a hand to his chest. His hand came up to rest on hers, fingers entwining. "Just as you shouldn't worry either. You'll never be unwanted or unloved again."

Emma shifted Neal in her arms before leaning to kiss him again.

Except her phone rang.

Killian groaned at the interruption. She reached for the gadget, minding her brother's breathing, and answered it.

"Hey honey," Mary Margaret's voice cracked through the line. "We're on our way home, but the snow's kind of deep."

"Yeah, we've been watching it from the windows," Emma supplemented, settling against Killian. He caressed her upper arm, occasionally tickling a rousing Neal.

"Well, it's stopped now. Once your father digs us out, we'll be home. Tell Hook we say hello and he's more than welcome to stay the night if he doesn't want to battle the elements."

"I will." The previous conversation still echoing through her mind, she added, "I love you, Mom."

After a moment of silence, Snow replied, "Love you, too. See you soon." And hung up.

"See?" Killian said smugly. "Too much love to be an orphan anymore."

**a/n: this one's also a favorite of mine**

**i just wanna take a moment to thank all of you again. 1500 people viewed my stories yesterday and this series hit 100 follows while i was sleeping and, lemme tell you, thats a fantastic thing to wake up to. the only reason i keep posting things is because yall keep reading them. thank you so so much, from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head. (sidebar: which came first: the crown of the head or the crown on the head?)**

**ive messed up this countdown so many times. today means 12 days?**


	16. P for Parents

"I don't like this, Emma," Snow chided, Neal cradled in the crook of her arms. "There's so much bad blood and unknown history."

Emma sighed, bending into the back of the chair and launching herself away. "Look, Mary Margaret, I know your maternal instinct is in overdrive right now, and I respect that," she quickly added when her mother glared at her, "but I've been doing my thing for years and I'm fine."

"But we're here now," she pleaded, motioning between her and an auspiciously quiet David leaning on the counter. "Aren't we allowed to have a say in what goes on in your life?"

Pacing, Emma rubbed her head in frustration. "I can't stop you from having your own opinions, but I choose when to abide by them. Taking care of that little squirt? Sure, I'll listen intently. Raising Henry? Alright, I'll try and pay attention. My love life?" She vigorously shook her head, ponytail whipping around and hitting the corners of her eyes. "Need I remind you of your first meeting? I was there. I saw it. Wasn't good."

Snow opened and closed her mother much like her son did when he was discovering his mouth. She snapped at her husband, who jumped to attention, releasing his bottom lip from its finger stronghold. "Back me up on this, David."

Pushing off the island, Charming strolled next to his daughter and placed a hand on her arm. "I'm going to have to side with Emma on this one."

Emma's smug grin greatly contrasted his wife's look of utter betrayal.

"You're only siding with her because of your mancrush on Hook!"

"We're just friends," he tried to explain amongst his daughter's laughter.

Mary Margaret stood from her chair and the table and handed Neal off to his sister. She then jabbed a finger in David's chest and began spewing off issue after issue at her stunned husband.

Emma turned away from the noise, a bounce in her step to keep the baby in his current calm state. "Mama's just getting a little stir crazy," she muttered to him, his baby face pure sunshine at the sound of her voice. "She's jealous that Daddy gets to go out and kick some ass and she's at home with you. But it's okay 'cause she loves you anyways, squirt."

A knock sounded at the door. Her parents too busy to notice it, Emma went to answer, tucking her finger under her brother's chin to tickle him. The boy gurgled, a silly child's smile infecting her, and she freed her hand enough to open the door.

As she expected, Killian stood on the other side, his expression immediately brightening at her appearance. Emma uttered a small "Hey" before backing away and allowing him in the loft.

"Good evening, Swan," he greeted her, kissing her temple and crowding closer to the Charming children. Only then did he notice their parents' argument. "What are they on about?"

"Mary Margaret's convinced you're not good enough for me."

He started, his neck tensing a little and his spine straightening. "Is that so?"

She hummed in confirmation, focusing back to the squirming child in her arms. "But David's defending you. And me too."

"I should hope so," he mumbled, earning him a knock to the shoulder. He steadied himself with his arm anchored around her waist. She stumbled into him and he caught her between his chest and a hand to Neal's stomach. The baby wrapped his entire hand around one of Killian's fingers.

"Careful of your rings," Emma scolded as Neal took the tip of the pirate's finger in his mouth.

"I know, love, I know."

They stood as such for a few more minutes, David and Snow still disputing, in hushed tones now, but just as heated.

"Are we expected to stay here all night or can we go about our evening?" Killian finally asked.

Emma regarded her parents before looking at her brother. "We should leave," she responded, "but I think maybe we should take Neal for the night so they can…" Her eyes moved to his, a twinkle in both confirming they had an understanding.

"Sort out their problems?" he offered.

Grabbing the diaper bag, Emma grinned. "Sure."

It was a long time and a lot of sweat and tear spent before Snow and Charming realized how big a favor their daughter and her pirate had done.

**a/n: petition to rename Neal to Squirt. 11 days **


	17. Q for Quarrel

When Henry handed her the real estate section with a listing circled in red, Emma already knew her answer.

"No," she sternly responded. At his gaping haw, she added, "we've already discussed this."

"Mom," he whined, slamming into a bar stool sear while his mother moved about the kitchen, "you can't be serious."

"As a heart attack." She caught a glimpse of his devastation. Leaning her elbows on the counter, she leveled with him. "You are more than welcome to stay with Regina more often, I won't be insulted." She sighed and pulled the clipping closer to her. "But I'm going to stay here, help out with the baby."

Henry made a face so much like his father's it stunned her for a moment. Then, he huffed and rolled his eyes, reminding Emma that this, in fact, was her son too. "Fine," he grumped, slipping from his seat and escaping to his room. "But when you get sick of them, don't come crying to me."

"Deal!" she yelled, her voice overpowered by the knocking on the front door.

Killian stepped into the loft smirking, the knocking merely as a formality now. "What's today's catastrophe?"

Her lips curled over her smile, Emma shut the door and placed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. "It's actually been an uneventful day. Well," she paused, pointing at the newsprint, "except for Henry's newest idea."

He picked up the clipping and read it silently, Emma coming up beside him.

"My, your lad is ambitious," he remarked, setting the paper down.

"Always been a dreamer, you know that."

Killian took the seat formerly occupied by Henry while she moved to make them some hot cocoa. His chin on the curve of his hook, he asked, "When do you think you'll settle it?"

"Settle in?" she questioningly replied. Reaching for two mugs in the cupboard, she said, "I've been living her for close to two years, not counting New York."

Shaking his head, Killian corrected himself. "Not here, Swan. In this house by the sea."

With furrowed brows, Emma slowly took the kettle from the stove and poured the water into the mugs. "We're not moving there. I'm not moving there."

"Whyever not?"

She sighed into her mug. "Were just not. David and Mary Margaret need help with Neal-"

"Darling, they're fine," he interrupted. "They get to be parents." He gestured wildly in her direction. "You need to live your own life."

"And I can do that fine living here," she retorted, forcibly putting her cocoa on the counter. She felt blood rising in her cheeks. "I'm not moving."

As he so often did, Killian sensed her underlying flustering. He stood and walked next to her. "Why not?"

"Because I said so!" she shouted. "Now stop pissing me off." And she walked away.

The pirate followed her, of course. "Tell me your real reasoning, Swan, and then maybe I shall."

Emma stalked to the couch and flopped down. Not ending the conversation easily, Killian kneeled in front of her, hook on her knee and hand tilting her chin up. "Emma, love, having your own abode would be food for you, for us, for Henry and anything else the future holds for you. Your parents and brother live down the road. What else could you possibly desire?"

"You don't get it," she admonished quietly. Her eyes slide closed, her head shook from side to side. "For 28 years, I had no family. I didn't get nagged to do my laundry by my mom or have my dad teach me how to ride a bike. My siblings came and went so fast, I didn't know half their names." She pushed him away and stood, a failing attempt to stall her tears, always running from her emotions. "And now, it may be late, but I have that. Mary Margaret makes me cook once a week. David's constantly lecturing me about our relationship. Neal's as adorable as can be and he's here, he's not going anywhere."

"Your father still doesn't approve of me?" he asked, stick on that one point of hers. She flared at him, still crouch in front of the couch. "Apologies. Continue."

"There's not much else to say," she sighed, biting her lower lip. "I finally have a family, my family, and it's better than I ever dreamed. I'm afraid…" she stopped in her path, gathering her wits. Then, in a whisper, she finished, "I'm afraid it's a dream. If I change anything, like move, something I did too much as a kid, I'll be alone again."

The cracks of the pirate's knees as he stood were the only warning she got before strong arms wrapped around her from behind, slowly turning her so she had to face him. "I'm truly sorry I pushed this from you," he apologized, swiping a tear away with his thumb. "But you know you'll never be alone again. I won't allow it," he declared. "This is your reality, albeit a tad unusual. I know you would do anything to go back and live that ideal life of yours. Alas, just as your parents found out, the past is in the past." He pulled her into his arms, giving her the chance to secretly shed the tears she needed to spill. "Every bird must leave its' mother's nest eventually. Every ship must leave port. Everyone must move on. Everyone must live."

The tension leaving her body, Emma curled her face into his neck. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," she mumbled.

His chuckle rumbled her frame. "I was beginning to worry you'd gone soft on me."

She gave him a watery smile and picked up the real estate section again. "How 'bout I go look at it?"

"An acceptable compromise," he concurred, weaving his fingers with hers. "Although," he suggested, "perhaps leave me out of this idea for now. Wouldn't want your father hating me anymore, now would we?"

**a/n: im apparently really into parent/child dynamics? 10 DAYS**


	18. R for Rum

"And when one of us chooses dare, the other picks a piece of clothing to come off," Emma finished explaining, knocking back another swig from his flask. "Get it?"

Lips pursed, Killian nodded his assent. She handed him the alcohol and he chased away his uncertainties of playing a game of disrobement, alcohol, and Swan. Satisfied with his gulp, he swallowed his doubts and asked, "How does this endeavor begin?"

A charmingly challenging smile spread across her face. "Truth or dare, pirate?"

Despite Swan's obvious flippancy toward his choices, he actually debated the pros and cons of each, mentally of course. "Dare," he finally settled on, keeping eye contact as he took another sip. Then, he threw his arms wide, putting himself on display for his competitor. "What'll it be, love?"

"Jacket," she said without hesitation. "Gimme your jacket."

"Now, now, I do believe you said the intention of this game was to wear less clothing," he mentioned, carefully pulling his hook from the sleeve. "Not wearing more."

His words didn't stop her from drowning herself in his beloved coat before his body heat had even left it. "Are you kidding? This is my one chance. Your turn."

"Truth or dare, Swan?"

"Truth."

"Which vestment do you wish to lose the least?"

Befuddlement stunned her system. "My shirt, I guess."

"Fair enough," he replied, smirk rising up on his mouth. "Truth or dare?"

"You can't do that!" Emma protested, leaning toward him and taking back his flask. "That's cheating!"

"Pirate," he reminded her. Killian shifted closer to her on the couch before asking again. "Consider it my next turn in advanced."

She huffed and downed another swig. At the rate this game was going, she was going to need a little more help withstanding his charm. Although rum might not be the best solution to that. "Dare."

Killian cocked his eyebrow, glee beyond measure in his eyes. "Your shirt if you please then."

"Should've seen that coming," she muttered. Another drink, and her sweater came off. "I'm keeping your jacket on," she stipulated. At least she could try and hide her bra with that.

"By all means," he practically purred.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Truth or-"

"Dare."

She couldn't help the grin growing. "Fine. Your vest and shirt." He happily obliged, but got caught up in unbuttoning his waistcoat, the rum buzzing in their ears and dulling their senses. Which was probably why, against her better judgment (but totally complying with her ever-increasing desire), she scooted until their knees touched and helped him out. "I'm sure it's hard enough one-handed sober."

"I've adapted," he said, his hand now free to twirl in her hair while she completed the job. When she was done, Emma leaned back, to his dismay. "What, not going to help me take them off?"

She giggled, a sure sign the rum was doing its job. Killian dramatically sighed and threw his vest to some unimportant shadow of the loft, and made a point of dropping his shirt on top of hers. Though neither would verbally admit it, both found the sight welcoming.

Another swig redden his cheeks. "Truth or dare?" he lilted, invading her personal space, his hand resting on the outside of her thigh.

"Truth," she breathed, his proximity slowing her words and overwhelming her senses. Her hand strayed to the abundance of chest hair, combing through it to feel the sailor's muscles underneath.

His hand covered hers. "If I were to politely ask you to bed, right in this moment in time," he whispered, noses hairsbreadth away, the taste of the other's lips hanging in the air, "how would you answer?"

Maybe it was the magic in her veins or the tension thick as butter between them or the rum they'd both imbibed a little too much of. But when the truth came out, it was a heady groan of "Yes."

He pounced, the force of his lips on hers, his hand on her cheek and hook on her bare side pushing her into the armrest. She matched his moves, tongues battling for domination. Emma lightly tugged at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He growled in response, nipping at her bottom lip as she smiled wide.

"You gonna ask, pirate?" she gasped when Killian gave her the chance to breathe by sucking and marking her down her neck.

His chuckles reverberated through him and to the marrow of her bones. "No," he snarled, standing from the couch and throwing her over his shoulder. The tail of his jacket flipped, covering Emma's head and muffling her "Hey, what's happened to politely?"

A smack on her ass. "Remember, darling? Pirate."

He threw her unceremoniously on her bed, she bounced and her hair haloed her face. When she'd settled, his coat still beneath her, Killian bowed grandly. "Please?" he asked, bent at the waist and blue blue eyes only for her green ones.

She didn't say a word, merely patted the mattress next to her with an undeniable smirk.

"Oh, bloody hell woman," he murmured, thumbing his chin and joining her.

**a/n: strip truth or dare? is that even a thing?**


	19. S for Swords

"Now, sweetheart," Killian chided, sneaking the tip of his sword under her chin and tilting it up. "How do you expect to defeat anything when you're watching your stance?"

Emma groaned, her arm lowering to her side. "But you told me to move my feet with balance and stop shuffling."

He shook his head and explained, "No, Swan, I said the shuffling was good, but you need to bend your knees."

"Jeez, can't I just learn this from David?"

Killian gave her a pointed look as she swung her sword aimlessly. Then, taking small steps, he approached her. "I believed you would find yourself more amused if I were your mentor," he said quietly. "By all means, if you would prefer your father in my stead, I shall be happy to get out of you way."

She looked him in the eye and sighed apologetically, but didn't say anything yet. Killian cocked a brow and, slowly, started backing away, acting as if he was going to return to his former business of perusing the town.

"Don't go," she finally said, grabbing his arm to halt him. "I'm just frustrated, that's all." He nodded in understanding. "Maybe a spar would make me feel better?" she suggest sweetly.

He started at her batting lashes and that talented tongue as it peeked from her lips (she knew how that affected him.) "Do you really believe yourself ready?"

Nodding fervently, Emma reminded him of their encounter at Lake Nostos. "I beat you then with no practice. This should be a cake walk."

Killian smirked. "We shall see."

She backed up a few paces, her hair blowing to the edges of her face to create a picture-perfect frame. When she was in position, he mimicked her stance, preparing for her to make the first move. She did, always one to set the mood, and Killian blocked it with practiced ease. He allowed her to attack a few more times, parrying and dodging all she threw at him.

And, when he felt the moment right, she becoming just this side of angry, eyes glowing and cheeks red from exertion, he struck, knocking her to the ground with him towering over head, her sword trapped between his and his hook. Sliding down the length of the metal to a crouch, his grin grew predatory.

"My, why do I seem to feel like I'm living my life again?" he goadingly asked.

"I don't know," Emma answered, her smile much different than the first time they'd done this. "Maybe you're getting old."

"I resent that, darling. I'm obviously quite well off if I have a beautiful woman beneath me."

"Well," she grunted, freeing her sword and clenching her thighs around his legs, forcing him to fumble and giving her enough time to flip their positions. "I'd get your eyes checked."

Surprise was obvious in his expression. "How'd you manage that?" he breathed, still unaccustomed to the sudden change in weight on his chest.

Emma shrugged, punctuating it with a quick peck on his lips. "I like being on top."


	20. T for Tattoo

"This has got to be the longest I've stayed with a guy in a long time," she confesses. Her fingers tangle in the abundant hair on his chest and she breathes in and breathes out the raw scent of sweat and leather and flowers. It's a weird after-sex combination, but its perfect for the situation, her naked body curled next to his.

"Am I to take that as a compliment?" he asks, his accent even rougher and more enticing in their little haven. She nods, a silly smile spreading over her face. His hand finds her free one and raises it to his lips, murmuring "It's an honor I'm more than willing to bear."

Emma giggles, unable to stop herself. Captain Hook, naked, in her presence, sated because of her. It was a miracle she didn't laugh during the sex, though god knows his ego could use a bit of deflation.

"What's this for?"

And, just like that, the moment's ruined. Her hand in his retreats hastily to the valley between her breasts and her grip on his chest hair tightens. "Nothing," she mutters. "It's nothing."

"Swan," he drawls, slowly reaching for her wrist. "You wouldn't have marked your skin for naught." Killian manages to ease her muscles, unveiling her inked wrist. His thumb brushes over it, again and again, swiping across her pulse. "Now, would you care to enlighten me?"

Nervously, Emma rolls her lip between her teeth. She knew it'd been a bad idea, taking off Graham's shoelace before a romp in the sheets, but she'd felt kind of guilty. Killian hardly knew about Graham, just that he was the sheriff before her, a dear friends who lost his life before the Savior believed. Wearing his lace while with Killian was, in her head, 'bad form.'

But she hadn't thought the pirate would notice the buttercup on the inside of her wrist. She should've known better. He noticed every minute detail about her. It was one of the things she loved most about him.

Emma relents with a sigh, loosening her grip on him and scooting closer, drawing strength from the heat of his body. "I got it the day I got out of the system. They let me out in the morning and as soon as I got into town, I found the cheapest tattoo parlor."

Killian's ministrations to her wrist continue, with the addition of him gently nudging his foot between hers, linking them in some perverse post-coital circle of emotions. It was oddly comforting.

"I just wanted something permanent," she explains. "The last thing I thought was permanent threw me away. They would literally have to cut my hand-" Emma felt the blush rise to her cheeks when she thought how that sentence ended.

Luckily, he chuckles slightly and kisses her forehead. "Go on," he mumbles, any offense from her words intangible.

"Yeah, so this was the first thing I was drawn to in the display book. It was simple, I could hide it if I wanted to and it was relatively cheap." The hand on his chest moves, coming to brush against the ink once next to his thumb. "Besides, I thought it was pretty."

"Made so only by the person who wears it," he whispers to her. His hand lays on her hip and gently tugs at it. She follows the motion, flipping over so her bare back is against his naked chest and his arms encircles her waist, fingers entwined. "A lovely story, Swan, but I choose to believe a different version."

"Oh yeah?" she counters. "And what would that be?"

His chin clips her shoulder, his hand sweetly caressing her stomach. "Even as a teenager, you foresaw your love being crippled in his left hand. And you chose to commemorate that because you know you could heal him and he, in turn, would wholeheartedly believe you the most devastatingly gorgeous creature in any realm."

Emma ducks into the pillow, willing the blush on her cheeks and the tears in her eyes away. He peppers kisses on her shoulder while she recovers, finally saying, "An ego boost veiled by a compliment."

"What can I say?" he muses, pulling her infinitely closer. "I'm short a bit of confidence. My name fell from those lips of yours a tad to quiet for my liking."

**a/n: long awaited explanation of Emma's tattoo ftw.**

**ONE WEEK. I REPEAT, ONE WEEK. WE ARE IN THE HOME STRETCH PEOPLE. THIS IS NOT A DRILL**


	21. U for Understanding (or Ultrasound)

He doesn't understand at all.

Doesn't understand how she knows when that bloody week (in every sense of the word) of hers hasn't yet come to pass.

Doesn't understand how, even with this realm's numerous methods of contraception, Emma still thinks she's with his child (not that he's not thrilled at the idea, although he fears for both their lives.)

Doesn't understand why he's standing next to her as she lays on a table in the hospital, her soft hand in his sole one.

Doesn't understand when Whale, of all people, is touching his Swan, spreading some sort of jelly on her stomach, and why she's letting him.

Doesn't understand the magic wand he's pressing to her navel or why Swan's eyes are closed and her hand has an iron grip on his.

He just doesn't understand.

And then he does.

Understands the steady, if a bit watery, beat issuing from the machine with the wand is a life, a child, _their_ child. Understands why silent tears fall from Emma's eyes even though she's grinning like a fool and bubbling out laughter. Understands, after explanation, of course, that the unusual little bean in black and white is what their child looks like at that moment of utter happiness. Understands that this is it: this is his life, with his love and her son and their child. Understands that villains do get happy endings if they work hard enough and love strong enough.

He gets it.

He's going to be a father.

**a/n: this ones another favorite of mine, albeit a shorty. 6 DAYS**


	22. V for Vows

"Ugh," she groaned, resting her face in the plan of her hands. "Remind me why I don't just use the cookie cutter easy version?"

Mary Margaret sighed and slid the blank notepad across the table. "Your story is too unique for cookie cutter words. Besides, Killian wanted to."

Emma peeked between her fingers at the paper, the blue lines waiting for the weight of her words. Raking her fingers back into her hair, her eyes connected with her mother's. "I'm not good at words," she complained, pushing the pad back to her. "You're Snow White. Can't you do it for me?"

The brunette laughed in a chiming, pleasant manner. "Do you want me to walk down the aisle for you too?" she joked.

Emma sunk sulkily down in her chair. "At this rate," she grumbled.

With the motherly expression Emma was still getting used to, Snow offered her hand. Emma grasped it, drawing comfort from the suppleness and warmth of it.

"Emma, honey, Killian loves you and you love him. Everybody gets wedding jitters. God knows I did, even the second time when we were already married." She twiddled with her daughter's fingers, spinning the simple engagement ring around. "It'll be fine," she reassured.

0000

Later that night, Emma sat under the covers, fingers gently rubbing her temples. "C'mon," she muttered to the pad of paper in her lap. "Just think."

"About what, love?" Killian asked, coming in from the bathroom and settling on the bed beside her.

"Vows," she answered. She placed the pad and pen on the bedside table. "I know you want me to write them, but I can't think of anything, even with my mother's help."

He slid himself under the blankets, his hand grabbing her and gently pulling her to him by her thigh. Emma sighed and complied. Into his chest, she asked, "What do your vows sound like?"

Killian merely holds her for a moment, silent save for his humming into her hair. "I was told not to share these with you," he said, an apologetic kiss to her forehead following. "Bad luck and such."

She wrinkled her nose and stared up at him. "That's the dress," she corrected him, reaching and kneading his stump. "You can't see my dress before our wedding day."

"I quite like the sound of that," he murmured. "Our wedding. So much so, I will stop at nothing superstitious for it to go off with a hitch." His smirk grew when he tapped the button of her nose.

Her forehead rested on the pillow his chest hair formed. "Please." Emma whined. "Just give me something to work with."

His laugh echoed through her bones, chasing away her nerves for now. "Emma, love, I tell you my vows every day and have since the moment we met." He pulled her impossibly closer and lifted her chin until blue met green.

"I vow to love you, every day, every night, for as long as I live. I vow to protect you because you've protected yourself for far too long. I vow to cherish you and give you the family you dreamt of but never had, whether it's us and Henry or a few new additions in the future. Emma, you took me as a broken man with a mind full of naught but centuries of vengeance and turned me into the honorable man I lost. I wish never to change, not for me, but because of you. You've made your mark on my heart, and it's the one scar I'm proud to bear. For you, my love, my Swan."

His final words hung in the air. Emma bit on her lip, trying to keep her tears at bay. Killian gave her a smile.

"How's that?" he inquired.

She broke, a nervous chuckle letting free the tears. "What the hell, Killian?" she cried, shoving off his chest and flipping so her back was to him. "How am I supposed to compete with that?"

His arm wound around her waist. "Don't compete," he whispered in her ear, his fingers playing at her skin. "Whatever you say will be enough for me, so long as at the end of the day, you'll still come to bed as my wife."

0000

If he thought she was beautiful in red, he was absolutely stunned at the altar. She glowed in white, blonde hair braided in a crown and a piece of paper in her shaky hands. Killian had already tugged at the heartstrings of her and the gathered assortment of their family and friends with his vows. Now he, like the rest of them, anxiously awaited what she had to say.

Emma took a deep breath to calm herself, crumbled up the paper in her hands, and started talking right to the man in front of her.

"I'm still not sure what to say. You told me your vows and I broke down in our bed and I thought, 'Dammit, you inane pirate, I forgot you weren't from this century. Everything you say is beautiful.' And it's true: you could call me the worst insult you know and I'd just pleasantly smile.

"But then I thought about how that's what you've done. You challenge me and make me something I'm proud to be. You make me beautiful. Not in a physical way, but in an emotional way. In my own eyes. I know this doesn't make sense, but hear me out. The first day we met, on that forsaken beanstalk, you told me I was an open book. You were the first one to even bother seeing past the orphan I was. You cracked my shell and made me into the person I was waiting to be. And I love you for it. I love you, Killian Jones, through every adventure and failure we've gone though and every one yet to come."

Now it was his turn to cry.

**a/n: im a mess at weddings.**

**GUYS, THE SNEAK PEEK AND THE PICTURES AND THE UGDHFOJIDSIDFNSK 5 DAYS**


	23. W for Wanderlust

She wakes up one morning to a snore and sunshine streaming in.

It's not her snore, nor is it Henry's from down the hall. Nope. It's Hook's. Killian Jones is passed out next to her, railing away into her pillow, hair mussed and clothes caddywompus from sleep.

Oh god, she thinks, crawling out of her bed, wide eyes never leaving the pirate's face. Oh god, oh shit, I can't breathe.

Emma barely thinks to shove her bare feet in shoes before she runs out the door to who knows where. The cold air, the sun's rays, something outside that room with him and his kind words and musky scent and stupidly perfect arched eyebrow in it has to calm her frantic heartbeat.

It's an instinct she hasn't felt the need to indulge in years: running. Get out, cut ties, start anew and anonymous somewhere else. In her former years, she wouldn't hesitate to grab her one measly box of possessions and hit the road.

But this is Storybrooke. Henry's here, her parents are here, she has a job and a house and this is home. She doesn't want to run.

So why did this development reawaken that instinct? Why with him?

0000

He should be beyond happy, over the moon with the news she has. A child. Their child. He is happy. Emma Swan let him, a broken man in innumerable ways, past her sky high walls and into her heart and home and life.

But the moment those words leave her lusciously soft lips, he feels smothered. He yearns for the open waters, the raucous noise of his crew at supper.

A small smile and a curt nod before he excuses himself, his feet moving before his mind tells them to because it's natural.

The sanctity of the docks offers him the most welcome haven this time he visits. The salt mixes with his blood, gives him new life, and the creaks of the tide pulling the ships give him a beat for his breaths to follow.

A child. He'd wandered this path with Milah, but alone and only in his mind. This was reality. He couldn't leave on a whim now, not that he'd ever want to, never without his love. Tethering a ship to harbor was a big commitment for the inner pirate of his. His bones screamed for the sway of a ship, had been for so many centuries. An endless journey on the sea.

But to raise a child, a family, with his Swan would be an adventure itself. Why would he want to run from that?

0000

There's a lot more to plan this than either of them thought. A week on the resurrected Jolly Roger, in theory, was simple and cheap: get on the boat with some food, sail as far down as they pleased, and magic themselves back.

But there was the additional baggage of a grumpy teenager facing no reception or internet, a grumpy toddler defining the terrible twos and trouble, and an altogether grumpy population jealous of their vacation to consider.

It may not have been the smartest idea at first, but once Killian sailed them into open waters, the dynamic changed. Henry was blown away by the nautica and piracy his step-father taught him, once he hid his phone away. Audrey would scream with glee at every glint that glittered off the crest of waves, Emma quickly scooping her into her arms as soon as her daughter gave chase.

They pulled into port in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, exploring the cities with familial vigor and curiosity.

And when the week came to an end, Henry begged his mother for more, Audrey sobbing in her father's ear beside them. The need to move, to go, to run, seemed to be an inherited trait. And while it would have worried any other parents, Emma and Killian were more than happy with the way their children dealt with it.

**a/n: wanderlust- a strong, innate desire to rove or travel about. it isnt excellent, but it works**


	24. X for Xylocarp

"Yep," Henry chimed, letting the curtain float back over the window. "We are not leaving here any time soon."

"Then it seems like your plan is going swimmingly," Killian said from the couch. He turned back to the staticky screen set, his tongue chasing the straw of his drink.

From the kitchen, Emma yelled, "Come get it kid. I can only carry so much." And then she appeared with half a coconut in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other.

Easily four feet of snow had blanketed the grounds of Storybrooke in the past day alone. And while, yes, they probably should worry about it since it was April, Emma couldn't bring herself to fret. They'd just gotten back from the past, all the timelines corrected, and what harm could one night off to spend with her boys do?

So, while the storm raged on outside, they cranked the heat in the apartment and heeded Henry's suggestion of a tropical night in. Emma whipped up a couple fruity slushies and Killian unearthed coconut cups and little umbrellas from a luau themed party she was sure Mary Margaret hosted under a curse.

"So what's tonight's viewing pleasure, lad?" Killian asked as the boy sat in front of the screen and fiddled with the black box underneath.

"It's called Lilo and Stitch," he replied, shoving something into the opening beneath the TV. "It's about an alien in Hawaii and he lives with a pair of sisters and they surf and it's got really good music."

The pirate took another sip of his drink and nodded. He lifted his arm to allow Emma to tuck in his side, which she did when she joined him on the couch.

"I understood a total of six words," he muttered in her ear. She laughed over the roar of the previews.

"It's not important, just watch."

The tip of his nose brushed the length of her jaw. "Mmm, but you're so much more entrancing than any image of the imagination."

Emma slapped his stomach and, once he finished recoiling, settled back into his arms. Henry glanced back at them from his seat on the carpet. His mother quickly recovered, saying "Great choice, kid. I haven't seen this since we were in New York."

He shrugged. "It seemed fitting."

Killian kept messing with the ends of her hair and trying to feed her popcorn of his hook during the opening chants of Hawaiian school children. She couldn't even pay attention because it was so annoying.

"Look," she said, giving him an ultimatum, "you can either do this now and remain unsatisfied or we can make it a little hotter after Henry goes to bed."

His eyes widened. "Are you quite serious, love?"

She smirked. "Only if you're on your best behavior."

**a/n: xylocarp- any fruit with a hardened outside shell, like a coconut. although this word may or may not exist. so, im basically using it as a fancy word for coconut.**

**at least its not xylophone.**


	25. Y for Year

She had no clue what could be this important. Pulling her aside during a celebration at Granny's wasn't like him. No, if Killian had something to share with her, it waited until the privacy of their home. This, therefore, had to be substantial and earth-ending.

Please don't let it be another villain, she wishfully pleaded. I need one day to recover.

He tucked them into a visible corner of the diner, private enough to share a secret but public enough not to arouse suspicions.

"What's up?" Emma asked as casually as possible.

Killian took her hand in his. "Do you know what today is, Swan?"

She scrunched her face up in thought. "I think it's a Saturday."

His chuckle, while meaning she was incorrect, softened the blow. "Yes, but that not what I meant." He looked down at their joined hands, squeezed them as if to give him a reality check, and took a deep breath. "It's been a year to the day since I found you and the lad in New York."

Her brows raised, Emma said disbelievingly, "A year?" Killian nodded. "Wow."

Flashpoints of the past year circled through her mind's eye. "That went by quick."

"Indeed it did," he sighed. Still looking down, he said, "And I thought that, since we've been so close for a year, I'd ask to court you." He met her gaze then. "Properly."

Emma couldn't help the smile that spread on her face. He was extremely nervous, she could tell, and he'd be able to read the utter innecessity she found in his question. So, she bit her bottom lip.

"Killian, I hate to break it to you, but you're a little bit late to the game. When he tilted his head in confusion like a lost little puppy, she giggled and wrapped her arms around his waist. "We've kind of been dating, courting, whatever you want to call it." She leaned into him. "Just friends don't usually live together and sleep together."

Understanding finally crossed his face. "I should hope not," he muttered. He kissed her temple. "I don't want to share you with Robin or anyone."

Emma laughed outright, throwing her head back in joy. "No," she assured him. "I'm all yours."

He smiled genuinely at that. "Then marry me."

The mood changed so quickly it gave her whiplash. Her eyes widened, her heart sped, and her breathing hitched. She leaned back to see his open eyes, straight past any joke he was trying to pull off.

There wasn't any.

"Are you serious?" she asked, her voice a bit strangled.

He nodded. "Swan, I want to be the one you come home to every day, the shoulder you seek when you're upset, the first person you share unbridled hoy with. I want to grow older with you, have children with you, wake up to the tangles in your hair and sleep in your eyes. The year in the Enchanted Forest was a year missing you I never want to go through again. I know you are mine and I yours and I want everyone in every realm to know it too." Killian took her hand in his once more. Looking into her slightly bewildered jade eyes, he repeated himself. "Emma Swan, will you do me the honor f becoming my wife?"

She stood there for a minute, mind racing, until she came to the only answer she was ever going to give.

"You know, it's customary for the proposer to get down on his knee."

"Will it change your answer if I do?"

Emma shook her head. "I thought, since you're going to be stick with me for the rest of your life, you might want to start learning the traditions of this realm."

His entire countenance perked up. "I'll learn whatever you're willing to teach me if it means your mine."

Their foreheads came together sweetly, noses just short of touching. "Is that a yes, love?" he asked, his eyebrow cocked. Emma nodded and the both smiled. "Good," he replied, causing her to smile even wider.

Hand in hand, he led her back to the crowded din of the diner. "Pardon, everyone!" he shouted. "If I could please have your attention."

Emma pulled his arm to get his. "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed.

Killian smirked. "Everyone in every realm," he echoed his proposal.

When Granny's had quieted down, Killian tugged Emma into his side. She buried her face in his shoulder, too embarrassed for words. "Sorry to interrupt your merrymaking," he said, "but I just wanted to inform you all of something." He glanced at the woman under his arm. "One year ago today, I traveled to New York via magic bean in search of our Savior. And when I found her, she had no recollection of anything I spoke of and, well, let's say gave me quite the rude greeting."

Emma dug deeper into his embrace as everyone else chuckled at her past actions. Killian just held her closer. "Much has happened in the past year, but there is only one thing that matters to me. Last year, I asked if she remembered me and she vehemently said no. This year, I asked her to marry me and she thankfully said yes."

The crowd cheered, ecstatic that their Savior finally found her own happy ending. Her parents and brother came to congratulate them, the first of an entire evening where, no matter if they spoke to different people, they were always together.

**a/n: why do proposals always make me so happy and sad to write? whyyyy i love them wahh**

**(im a little bt hungover and this cheese quesdilla is doing woinders to my head :)))))**


	26. Z for Zephyr

"Don't leave me ever again," Anna mumbled into her sister's shoulder. Emma couldn't help the smile that crossed her face when she saw Elsa's arms tighten around her sister. After everything they'd gone through, they finally had each other again.

And a reindeer. And an ice dealer husband slash brother in law.

But who was she, the daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White, to judge?

Though the cold brought on by Elsa's despair evaporated surprisingly quickly after Anna's reappearance, a new breeze warmed by the sun flew off the coast, lifting up the tips of her hair and filling her lungs with sweet sea air that only the water could.

The sea and a certain leather-clad man, she should say.

"A sight to warm a frozen heart," a voice drawled upwind, carried next to the fragments of sea salt and sunshine. "Wouldn't you agree, love?"

Emma scoffed and faced the pirate who'd managed to thaw her own heart. "If you don;t knock that smug look, I'll knock it off for you," she threatened, no malice behind the words.

"I think I'd like that," he murmured, his token smirk playing at his lips.

She giggled, a practice she was still getting used to, before she leaned into him and grabbed the lapels of his new jacket. "I do love a challenge," she countered, twisting his long-ago uttered words in a much sweeter way.

It may have been coincidence, or it may have been her magic coming back to life, sparked by the fluttering of her heart, but Emma could've sworn that the slight breeze around the marina picked up when their lips touched .Tongue lashed against tongue as the wind swirled around them,carrying away the frigidity of loneliness and replacing it with the heat of love.

Killian chuckled into her kiss, his chest rising into hers. He pulled away only enough to lock gazes. "So what's your next adventure?" he asked.

Emma smiled and, without hesitation, leaned into him again. "Don't you mean _our_ next adventure?"

**a/n: zephyr- a breeze from the west, a gentle breeze. a couple of you suggested it, one of you (im sorry, i dont remember which one) saying that it could signify a new beginning. it was an excellent idea.**

**AND WITH THAT, THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.**

**or at least we hope they do. WHICH WE WILL FIND OUT TOMORROW. HOORAYYYYYYYY.**

**i just want to take this long author's note to thank you, all of you, who read this or any of the other letters. this project started as a pipe dream and all of you gave me the idea that i could actually finish this project, which, in case you were not aware, i done did. ive never actually finished such an undertaking of a writing project. this is honestly so amazing and im going to be so confused when i wake up tomorrow and dont have any of these little ditties to post. so, thank you for all your comments and follows and favorites and everything. i only feel like a rockstar because of your rockstars.**

**now that youve made it to the end of this thing, ill let yall in on a little secret. ive sent the next completed chapter of Shower Streams to my roommate and it should be posted (hopefully) before the premiere tomorrow (hopefully) (if she gets her hungover ass out of bed and actually edits the dare tootin thing)**

**THANK YOU ALL OF YOU THIS HAS BEEN A FANTASTIC 26 DAYS HUGS AND BUTTERFLY KISSES TO ALL OF YOU.**


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